Fatherly Torture
by MindoftheSongbird
Summary: <html><head></head>GhetsisxN. Angst. Rated M for a reason! N-joy</html>


Unfortunately, I don't own any of the characters here, or Pokemon...

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><p>N wasn't sure what to think anymore. He'd always, <em>always<em> known that his father was using him, and always _would_ use him in any way possible. His sole purpose in life was to be a tool for his father. That's what his thoughts were reduced to.

Team Plasma was one of his father's greatest achievements. At first, N thought he was truly helping the pokémon, like he was actually working toward some greater good. But time went on, and no good was found. Even his pokémon knew about his father's hidden agenda, and nothing would get any better. His father kept to his word, though. He never harmed N's pokémon, though they were his greatest weakness. They had already suffered enough…

His father was merciless outside his great speeches to the masses. As soon as he was through preaching to the crowds, he'd crawl back into his corner and complain about how each and every trainer was a worthless and bothersome and _how N was just like them_. He couldn't stand it. Every single day he had to hear how worthless he was and how if they wanted, they could find somebody else to fill his place in Team Plasma. He was a tool. Nothing more, nothing less.

Even on those late nights when he did nothing but stare at the wounds through the mirror, he never shed a single tear. Not even once did he cry. He was told that crying made you _worthless_ and that no one would want you. That was what his father told him as he watched his beloved pokémon…friend…zorua…_die_. It seemed as though that every night following, his father had _some_ way of consoling him. It started off as mild violence… A cute here…a bruise there… But eventually, it didn't stop there. A menacing _gash_ or two here…a few broken bones there…

But even _that_ never ceased to fill his father with satisfaction. It took a great amount of time, and only _once_ did it happen…

"_I'm _sick_ of you, do you understand? You're worthless…You serve no purpose to _anyone_, not even to myself…" Ghetsis' mouth curved into a smile as he thought out his next move. "But you will… Yes, you'll prove to be…very…useful to me."_

_N wasn't sure what his father meant, but it could be far from kind. What would his father do to him _now_? This torture wasn't bad enough to beg for death…_

_Ghetsis approached him with a villainous smile, and arms open wide. He knew N wouldn't fall for this, of course. Not even a mere second later, a sharp slap rang out through the air. Much to Ghetsis' dismay, N made not a single sound. This, unfortunately, had to stop. He wouldn't get any satisfaction out of this if he didn't react! It gave his father a strange sense of pride to know that he could make his son _feel_ something when he was depressed._

_He threw another slap at his son's opposite cheek, and pulled him forward with his free hand. "Do what I say and Daddy won't punish you..." N was numb to react, even when he felt his father dragging him to some sort of raised surface _somewhere_… His mind said nothing. He knew the harsh feeling of something leather—or maybe wooden?—tearing through his shirt and littering his skin with soon to be deep-set scars. Even _this_ torture didn't cause him to cry out or…emote. _

_His father was _not_ pleased with his son's behavior. Tossing the shreds of bloodied shirt to the ground, Ghetsis sighed. There wasn't really any other option now, was there? He saw his son visibly stiffen when his hands reached out, and hooked pale fingers around his waistband. Well…that's certainly an improvement! He laughed as his son struggled to keep the inevitable from happening. Despite N's silent pleas against the act, the remains of his clothes were tossed into the darkness, and he was covered by nothing but air. _

_Ghetsis was not yet impressed. He needed _more_ than just a few unspoken whimpers and shudders. "…turn around." N did as was told, placing his back to his father. Somehow, this unnerved him a little… _

_N never saw when his father discarded any article of clothing, or when he'd pulled something shiny and sharp from a drawer somewhere in the room, but…he'd definitely _felt_ it. He'd most definitely felt his father draw the sharpened item diagonally across his neck, and slicing off his only redeeming quality… His heart _wrenched _at the loss of pale green… He remembered his mother saying once, that she loved his hair…the same thing Black had said… But…he wouldn't cry. He _refused_ to give his father that kind of satisfaction. And then…as he watched a beautiful sea of harvested pale green fall to the ground out of the corner of his eye…he never saw it coming. _

_His so-called father shoved him to the ground in pure anger, and without any warning, preparation, or…or _anything_, it happened. In one anger-driven movement, _some_thing had ripped him apart from the inside-out. Not some_thing_…some_one_…_

_-  
><em>He could clearly remember how badly he had been worked, and how painful the raw anger was. He remembered being told… "_Keep screaming…no one will hear you_…" He remembered much his father _loved_ his pain… And he remembered it all too clearly…

_N couldn't _move_ when his father was finished with him… He was almost frozen solid in tears, sweat, blood, semen, and a sea of pale green hair… His father wore such a beautifully sick smile… He had been fully pleased with his son. Though…with one last glance to him, Ghetsis' expression faded into a deadening glare and a poisonous smirk. "Why…look at the mess you've made. I'll have to punish you for that later."_

N couldn't tell when he'd stopped reacting to the torture. No matter what his father tried, he could never get that same reaction out of him… Ghetsis had tried and tried again to hear those pleasant screams of agony…those cries of despair that _he himself caused_… The torture never ended, though… It never would…


End file.
